Would You Kindly
by Impervious Marr
Summary: This family was ideal. Perfect, maybe. Oh, he couldn't wait to break it. IvanAlfredIvan, AU.
1. sleep

a/n: i don't own hetalia. i don't own blood by mcr. a bit of creepy stuff in here and lots more to come. future ivan/alfred/ivan. warning of OC.

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_i'm the kind of human wreckage that you love!_

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His hands shook. His hands _always_ shook. Even when the time Ivan saw him down the impossibly hidden alley. Even when he told _Toris _to go distract the man while _he _went to grab something from the orphanage's shed. Even before he knocked him on the head with a hammer until he was _sure _the homeless man had a concussion.

Even - even when he's tied up against the chair with ropes around his chest all the way down to his torso, his arms free to flail around as much as he wanted to because they only came up to his underarms. Ivan thought distantly that it must be hard to breathe, like that. He did tie up the man quite hard.

And in such a fun way, too! Everyone always tied up the hands and the ankles, but only _he _did the complete opposite. Strap down everything _except _the arms and the ankles. Though it did take a long time, dragging him inside the nearby abandoned building's basement... Not to mention the man got fussy with him for a bit by scratching the side of his face when he started panicking.

But he earned a pat on the back, didn't he? He tied him up really good.

_**GOOD LITTLE IVAN.**_

"It is _really_ nothing personal," he explained earnestly, running a finger over the scratch on the side of his face in an absentminded way. "We simply dislike people in general... You understand."

"Wha'ssat gotta do with _me_?" the man mumbled weakly, hands still shaking.

"You're a person. I'm sorry," he said breezily, picking up the hammer again. Those hands... "Does that make you feel better? Me saying sorry to you?"

"My god, you _crazy motherfucker -"_ The man immediately screamed when Ivan threw the hammer at him, the sharp edge hitting his eye. His arms went up to his face. "_What the __**fuck my eyes - oh god my eyes**_!"

"You're annoying me, really," the teenager admitted, rubbing his gloved hands together as he stared off into space. "And I only hit _one _of your eyes. I was thinking of crushing your fingers one by one at first, but maybe it will simply be better to break you altogether. Would you kindly shut up?"

His screeching turned into hoarse sobs. "Oh G-_God please _let me _go, p-please _I'll do _anything_ -"

Ivan came up behind him and violently put on duct tape over his mouth. The man swung his arms in retaliation but Ivan jumped out of the way.

"Terrible, _terrible _hope. Your arms are free but your whole body - ah, if _only_ you can find the knot which secures you in place," Ivan murmured, picking up the chainsaw at the room's corner. Quite heavy - but he was strong for his age. "Of course, you can't reach it. After all, Ivan does his job well."

He got the chainsaw working with relative ease. The sound of it filled the room; the motor shaking the dust on the floors and almost rattling the bones strewn all over the place. Carcasses of mice, when Ivan became bored of mutilating his playmates and left them untied in the dark room for a few days.

He quite liked thinking dead mice were nice to eat when desperate.

"Would you kindly be a good person?" Ivan asked soothingly, testing the weight of the device in his hands. "Be good and I'll let you go. I _promise._ Shh, I promise."

"O-_Okay," _the man sobbed, barely choking out the word.

"Just do what I say. Just hold up your arms, be _good. _I'll let you go, okay. Good, _good _person. I promise."

He held out his arms. Those hands _still shook_."_Okay._"

Ivan was fascinated. It was amazing how they quietened so _easily_ and how docile they became_._ How a few simple words can make them feel better.

Make them feel hope.

"I _promise_," Ivan repeated like a parrot, bringing the chainsaw down to one of the man's outstretched forelimbs.

Terrible, _terrible _hope.

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Ivan took no notice of the strangers that came and went to take a look at their scrawny little behinds. They said a few words, looked at them all, but chose which one was young and cute enough to become their new daughter or son.

But this one, oh, he's been here for a while already. One day he was just minding his own business as always, and the man laughed - he looked and _couldn't _look away when the man smiled at him.

Took off his glasses to rub them a bit.

This one had a crazy, devilish smile and beautiful hair like spun gold. But the eyes were the ones that did it. Brighter than the clearest sky he's ever seen, but there was a dangerous, dangerous thing behind those blues, especially in those few seconds he took his glasses off. So dark that Ivan couldn't get his mind around it. So _dark, _even his monster was filled with absolute fascination.

Both of them _wanted _him.

But soon after that, he was gone.

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How queer it was, to have the particular part of the building containing his dorms burn down to nothing but rubble the next morning.

It was as if in a daze that he was placed in other rooms for a little bit before the administration decided that I-Ivan Braginski needed a bit more room than what he could get tucked away with four other boys younger than him. Not that he was complaining - he was expecting it already, and he was getting quite bored with the place. He was about to do something drastic as he always did when he got bored of a place.

So here he was.

Ivan chewed on his gum in a set pace, staring patiently at the woman opposite him as she struggled to look presentable, shuffling overflowing papers on her desk and tucking stray strands of hair away behind her ear. She looked like a mess and she probably felt like one, too. Ivan made no move to help her - not that she was expecting that creepy, creepy boy to do anything.

"He's - coming in a moment, I need to - need to look, how do I look, Ivan, dear?"

He chewed a bit faster, and the shaky smile on her face couldn't stay plastered anymore.

"Right, don't worry, Ivan, he's a nice man. He'll take good, _good_ care of you. I promise."

_Don't come back. Don't come back._

She moved a stack of papers into one hand - and that was when there was a knock on the door. She jumped at least a foot in the air, hands shaking and Ivan could literally see sweat forming on the palms when the papers tumbled to the floor, covering the wood finish.

"C-Coming!" she responded shrilly, walking as fast as she could towards the door, almost stumbling over a low coffee table as she did - she was never like this, really, she's not like this all the time. It only happened when I-Ivan Braginski was in the room. When she was _alone _with I-Ivan Braginski.

B-But not anymore, she thought, and she swung the door open as fast as she could, almost stubbing her toe in the process. "W-Welcome!"

Ivan looked behind where he was sitting - facing the desk - when he suddenly stopped chewing; his heart made a strange _thump_.

The man who stood on the doorway held up both of his hands in a surrending gesture, as if sensing the woman was all over herself today. His speech held the tinge of a Southerner but other than that sounded completely natural. It was strange. "Thanks. You Yekaterina, right?"

"Yes, I am terribly sorry f-for the mess in my office, it was - well - I didn't have time to clean up properly," she finished lamely, and the man laughed, striding confidently into the room as if he belonged there all along. Though the image was a bit skewed - a man having eyes which know no defeat, standing in a whirlwind of papers and notes and other miscellany. He answered as if he knew this would happen all along.

"I've had much worse, trust me. My own little tyke running through make believe hell as if he owned the place, you understand. I'm just glad he grew up before he got to the china."

Ivan watched, _entranced_ with the grin and the _**eyes**_and the golden, golden hair, a figure about, maybe a head taller than he was (even if he was still growing, and he had no doubts he'll grow taller than him). Oh, he was even more beautiful up close.

_he's back he 's_

"Yes," Yekaterina agreed anyway, a shadow of understanding clouding her and not the real one entity of it all. She has no kids of her own. (You understand.) "Please, take a seat. This is I-Ivan Braginski." She put on a brave face even as she stumbled over the words. Everyone stumbled over I-Ivan, in particular.

"Well of course - we wouldn't want another one in here instead, yeah?" he joked casually, but it sounded out of place when Yekaterina merely smiled; awkward, even, and he stopped making jokes after that. "Nice to meet you, Ivan. Do you mind me calling you that?"

Sometimes the others made a big fuss about strangers (who were about to take them away to strange, strange unfamiliar places) using their first names - but Ivan was one of those who could care less. It was merely something people called him. "No," he answered prettily, around the gum he had in his mouth, shifting to look at the man better. His voice was high and clear, refined around the edges where someone would expect the beginnings of an accent; you couldn't tell the difference from him and a native. "I don't mind. It's nice to meet you too. Would you kindly give me your name? Miss Katyusha hasn't bothered to inform me."

He wasn't being mean.

He was being honest.

"You can call me Alfred," the man said warmly, shifting his attention (those _eyes)_ to Yekaterina and Ivan began to hate her a little bit. "So we're just going through the papers another time before he's good to go?"

_m in e_

"Yes, yes," and there was a whole world of _relief _in that voice, as if she was rid of something so unpleasant she could speak nothing about it, and she felt no true guilt for dumping said unpleasantness to another hapless soul. But Alfred's face remained unchanged from the grin. "And then - the papers. Simple as that."

_Don't come back._

"Sounds great. You okay with this, Ivan?"

Ivan blinked slowly, voice still high and clear when he responded. None of the administrators actually asked what he thought when they decided things for him. _Sounds great, don't you think? _instead of, _Are you okay with this?_

And he was okay with that.

"Yes."

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"I told Mattie about getting a big brother to play with today. And let me tell you, the boy's mother is _thrilled,_" Alfred explained to Yekaterina, as they walked through the corridors of the orphanage. His _thrilled _sounded more like a _thaa-ri__**ll'd, **_and he wore a grin almost close to devilish in the dictionary. The kids hung in the shadows, whispering to themselves and giving secret, evil smiles that skittered away when they saw I-Ivan Braginski hovering close to the newcomer. "She's been wanting an adopted son of her own, helping out and all that, givin' a chance for a change and whatever little fantasies she cooks up."

"That's very nice, Mr. Jones."

And she was only doing it to keep up the conversation, and Alfred was much too absorbed in himself to care if she cared or not.

"So it's sad this is a short-term thing. But it'll be great if you can stay with us for a long time, Ivan. Fay would love you so much."

"T-Temporary - well of _course _it would be a long time, Mr. Jones it would take a long time for the repairs to be finished and he should be - given a chance to experience love from a real _family,_" Yekaterina explained hastily, panic overtaking her for a moment when she thought about I-Ivan Braginski _coming back._

Alfred frowned. "He's been in the orphanage all his life?"

"C-Came in when he was eight, moved around to different places, ah..."

"I wasn't a very good child back then," Ivan said airily, softly with the edge of a knife, cutting through the conversation like it was butter. "This is the fifth."

"Takes a while to really settle down, huh?" Alfred asked with the same kind of dismissal, lips shaped into a pretty grin. Ivan decided that he didn't hate Katyusha so much now. "You're fifteen now, so about seven years moving around, give or take. You must've been pretty occupied."

Ivan moved closer when one of the children looked up to Alfred as if he was a god. "Yes," he almost whispered, nodding slowly and smiling, very nicely towards the girl at the back.

She saw something unbelievably terrifying, and scampered away as fast as she could.

"W-We're here," Yekaterina said as softly as she could, but it still broke the spell over them and Ivan _hated _her - maybe he should decide on what he felt about her before he did something socially unacceptable. The hassle wasn't worth it. Humans were much too fussy over a little bit of death on their side.

Alfred looked a little awkward standing there in the middle of a room fit for four boys plus one, who was about to go in the next couple of minutes. And not _come back._ "You need any help packing?" he asked courteously, as if remembering his manners, squaring his shoulders as he ignored the beady eyes of Ivan's soon-to-be ex-roommates staring at him. It was like the girl, only with a bit more subtlety. Ivan was still watching like a ruthless predator, shifting his gaze from one child to another until they didn't even dare look at Alfred again.

Then he answered softly, bending down to retrieve the bag they gave to him before he was called up to the office. "I'll be fine." It came out a bit wet, and he shifted the gum in his mouth a bit more. "I don't have many things." And he didn't. All of his things fit in the one bag with relative ease, him only having to push the clothes around a little bit before he tucked in a pair of trousers from the floor. "I'm done."

"Great! A goodbye to your friends and we're all set."

Ivan smiled sweetly, a deep dimple appearing on his right cheek while the left had only half of it. "Goodbye," he murmured, still in that soft, smooth, terrifying - high and _clear _voice, still watching like the hunter he was for anything he should take note upon; for the future, perhaps, if he ever came back to this place.

The children _still _didn't dare to look at Alfred.

_**GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN. **_the voice cackled cruelly and the boys all shuddered as if they heard it, but Alfred (because Adults take no notice) gave him a brilliant smile instead before showing him out the door and into the light. _**GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN.**_

One of them burst into tears, making Alfred stop and smile apologetically. "You upset 'bout me taking away Ivan? He's in good hands now, yes sir. Straighten up well, little guy," Alfred said not unkindly, ruffling the child's hair and the boy _froze_. Because Ivan hated him. Ivan _hated _that boy. "Maybe even Ivan would like to come around visit?"

"_No,"_ Yekaterina said almost forcefully, her lips stretching out into a tired and crazy, crazy smile. "They wouldn't like it much - if so soon. _No._"

Alfred sighed in understanding. "Of course. Ivan, you ready?" Without warning, he picked up the boy's bag and waited for Ivan to exit the room. And when they did, and got into the office, and signed all the papers, he was already standing in the doorway with Miss Yekaterina in front of him, Mr. Jones to his side. "Well, that'll be it."

"Thank you for your time and your c-consideration, Mr. Jones."

"Happy to do my part in the community," Alfred replied like a good citizen, a hand on Ivan's shoulder as he said so. Ivan leaned in a little bit, looking up at Yekaterina with impassive, calm violet _violent_ eyes. "He'll be in good hands, you don't have to worry." It seemed inane to repeat it again as it was when Yekaterina still didn't stop stumbling. Her eyes darted nervously from I-Ivan to Alfred and back, but she couldn't even _look _into those eyes anymore.

_i'm not worried about __**it.**_

"Thank you for taking good care of me, Miss Katyusha."

Yekaterina felt the unbearable miasma of a _monster _creeping up on her skin and the completely abbhorent feeling of _**it **_saying her name in such an intimate, affectionate way. Monsters weren't _allowed _to say such things. They weren't _allowed! _She gripped the doorknob until her knuckles turned deathly white and her muscles hurt. "Think nothing of it," and she _meant _it with all her heart. She could only say comforting words akin to a child's mindless babber when trying to comfort themselves. _Don't come back. Don't come back._

Ivan stared up at her, lips making a very light, wet sound as he chewed on his gum, tilting his head minimally to the side with precise, slow movements. His eyes narrowed the slightest of inches and she flinched horribly, backing up and dropping the shaky smile.

"_Please _go. I need to do some work now."

Alfred sounded surprised. "Of course, I wouldn't want to keep you..." he trailed, when she walked away abruptly, _relieved, _even forgetting to shut the door in her escape. "Mm, she must've been in a real hurry. Hold the bag, sport?" Alfred asked, handing him his bag as the blond man reached over to shut the door.

Then they were halfway towards the nice-looking sedan up front parked in one of the attendant's lots. Alfred popped open the backdoor and placed the bag inside before closing it shut. "I hope it's not too sudden and all, whisking you away like this without a care in the world. We've even got you registered in one of them schools in Sept all ready and well, we'll try to be the best foster parents you'll ever have."

Ivan stood there a bit more, wondering if he was supposed to say something. "Okay," he managed, because it was a good word to say in conversations.

"Christ, I'm fallin' all over myself here. Get in the car? C'mon."

"Okay." Ivan followed, put on the seat belt almost automatically even if he didn't ride shotgun too often, and looked at the knobs and dials and turning things on the dashboard panel, fingers itching to touch something. What was he supposed to do now? Compliment, maybe. "You have a nice car," he said, because...

"Thanks." Alfred jammed the key into the ignition and turned, it stumbled at least twice before the sparks actually worked and got a move on with the engine. "It holds. You hungry for anything?"

Ivan shook his head minutely.

"Well, it's a one hour drive from here, so if you need anything, feel free to ask." Ivan nodded at this, and Alfred backed up the car before starting off at a steady speed. He tuned the radio to a familiar station, letting out a steady rock rhythm from the speakers. "Not much of a talker, are you?" Alfred asked conversationally, hands sliding over the steering wheel as the car turned into a gentle curve.

"I'm not a talker," Ivan answered, playing with the end of his shirt. Alfred grinned, the act as if he was baring his teeth.

"And I'm not much of a listener, either, or so my darlin' says about me. I think we'll get along just fine."

--

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The drive took about an hour and a half. They arrived in an idyllic neighbourhood which Ivan recognized as one of the more upscale parts of the state, from what he remembered in pictures he saw back in the library. It was evening, then, about five o'clock give or take since the sun wasn't hot enough to keep away the kids from populating the sidewalk.

A ball crossed the road in front of them and Alfred braked into a halt, waiting for one of the runts to cross the street and pick it up. Alfred rolled down the window when a boy in his teens waved at him. He looked to be about Ivan's age, with short blond hair and blue eyes, and interestingly enough he was almost the same height as he was.

"Good evening, Mr. Jones," the boy greeted politely, scooping up the soccer ball into one of his hands. "Sorry for the interruption."

"No harm done; just be careful."

It was meaningless chatter and held none of Ivan's attention, so he took out another piece of gum from his pocket and unwrapped it neatly. He already threw out the one before this.

"And this is Ivan," Alfred said proudly, as if he was some sort of prize, which made the boy look up at the man before peering closely at Soccer Kid. "You'll get to know him better in school - I really gotta go now."

Soccer Kid looked at Ivan before shrugging. "No problem. See you later, Mr. Jones. Ivan," he ended strangely, before darting off to join his comrades in the field to their right. Alfred promptly brought up the window and continued.

"That was Ludwig. Nice kid, really, but way too polite for his own good. Makes me think twice sometimes about being related to Gilbert, resident troublemaker and all-around hooligan."

"But I'm polite," Ivan said liltingly, turning away from the outside scenery to look at Alfred.

"Fay's gonna love you then, you sweetheart you," Alfred said easily, and Ivan presumed that the tone was supposed to be sarcastic, but found out it wasn't. "Here we are. Get your bag for me, will ya?"

They pulled up into a house certainly big enough to fit a family of four plus a couple of guests. Perfect little suburban thing with a nicely trimmed lawn, and a bike sprawled on the grass; belonging to who Ivan assumed was this _Matthew _Alfred talked about earlier during their journey. _Matthew _was five years old, Alfred said _fondly_, and Ivan was all the more ready to start disliking the child.

The door opened, and a blond head peered out. "Daddy...?" a shy voice asked hesitantly, before the whole of it appeared. Ivan tugged at Alfred's sleeve and motioned at the newcomer - Alfred broke into a beautiful grin, holding out his arms and crouching when the child ran up to his father. He scooped him up effortlessly.

"Can't wait to meet your new big brother, squirt?" Alfred asked, ruffling Matthew's hair and then facing Ivan. "Say hi to Ivan. Ivan, this is my son, Matthew."

Matthew's tiny hand clutched at Alfred's shirt tightly as he looked at Ivan; strangely enough, he didn't tear his gaze away from the older boy as what other children would do. Ivan was struck by how similar he looked like his father. It was as if he was Alfred's own significantly younger identical twin.

"_Eye-ven,_" Matthew started quietly, scrunching up his nose then frowned. "It's _ee-vahn._ I have a teach'r in my class and that's what we call'him."

"Oh." Surprise filled Alfred's features and he turned towards Ivan. "Is that how you pronounce your name?"

"Either way is fine." It was just a _name,_ something you used to call another person, so he could care less about it. Ivan hadn't heard of that pronunciation in years, though. He smiled at Matthew, dimples in his cheeks, and found out that maybe he wouldn't hate this child that easily. Another first. "He is very smart."

"A genius, all right. You hear that, baby boy? Now where's your momma?"

"Inside, baking cookies." Matthew's cheeks coloured. "I was about to run out when she put them in the oven."

Alfred blanched. "And it's a good thing you got out as fast as you did, too. We better pick up the pace, Ivan, before she blows something up." He put the boy down and turned on his heels to stride inside, with his two wards following him from the back obediently. "Darlin', I'm home!"

Ivan tuned out the conversation. The decor of the house was a weird combination of East Coast meeting West, which probably suited who Alfred was. Ivan would've expected nothing less of him. Just when he thought so, a(n un)pleasant voice could be heard nearing the back, and Ivan smiled humourlessly.

"Endearments are not about to get you anywhere, you _git!_ Do you think you can just walk out of here without getting an earful back home!?"

Alfred walked faster, right into the kitchen - barely catching the egg-beater thrown at him. "Don't be like that, doll-face. You know I'll come back before long." He grinned, strode up to where she was - behind the counter - and planted a swift kiss on her lips. Ivan's smile widened. "Now be nice. I brought Ivan back home."

"Ivan? You mean -" She peered over the man's shoulder, and Ivan had a look at her auburn hair, those wide green eyes he wanted to break. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry - where are my manners?" She pinched Alfred subtly on his arm, which made him wince. "Bringing him when we're not even prepared! I haven't even gotten started on dinner yet -"

"Sugar, _relax._ It's supposed to be a surprise. Ivan, come meet your foster momma." Alfred pulled away from the woman, which at _least _made him lessen the grip of his fists. "This is my wife, Morgan Fay. You've got her to thank, mainly, for being here. She wanted another son and that's what she got."

_oh ? _Ivan raised an eyebrow mentally, but he was still smiling. "Thank you for having me, _Mrs. Jones_."

She barely noticed the emphasis. "It's nice to meet you too, really. Did you have a nice trip? You must be hungry, Ivan. I'm sorry you'll have to wait for dinner."

"It's okay." Ivan was perfectly polite. "I can unpack my bags first?"

"You are _such_ a darling, miles away from the man I married," she crooned - which made Alfred snort in amusement - stepping up to stroke his hair, and Ivan jerked away, barely keeping himself from hissing out. "Oh - I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"I-I'm just not used to it," he stuttered smoothly, and from here Ivan could see Alfred look at him strangely. He decided he liked the attention.

"I'll bring him up to his room, sweetheart, while you get started on dinner, yeah?" Alfred gave her a smile, and she finally relented with one of her own. "I'll help you out later. Mattie, you wanna come along?"

The young boy nodded. "Okay, Daddy."

As Ivan followed after Alfred and Matthew, he looked back at Morgan, lips curved into a slight smirk. Her happy smile faltered.

The family pictures they passed painted an image of the perfect, ideal family. He could see himself standing over them, glass shards all over the floor, his hands bloody from tearing them apart.

_Oh,_ he couldn't _wait_ to _break_ it.

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a/n: aaaa what the hell is this creepy kid!ivan!? should i continue? should i not? future ivan/alfred? there really is. my goodness, he's almost twice his age. and ah, the premise is very strange. but it's something i've been wanting to do for a while. you'll just have to wish that i don't hold back. unbetaed. my stuff is always unbetaed. does anybody wanna be my beta? XD

read, review, thank you!


	2. mama

a/n: thank you for the reviews! i don't own hetalia. i don't own mama by mcr. the lullaby is my own.

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_i should've raised a baby girl_

_i should've been a better son_

--

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Ivan found it surprising that Alfred was an early riser.

"At least I don't have to worry about waking you up for school tomorrow," he said as a greeting, hair tousled and his eyes in a sort of lounging ease, as the man crossed the kitchen to open the curtains. The sky was still dark. "I know it's too soon, but hell. _And, _good mornin', sunshine - you fixin' breakfast?"

Ivan smiled. Alfred was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and a tank top. "Good morning, Mr. Jones. I don't assume I'm being too imposing?" he asked, if only because he wanted to be polite. Because in the next second he poured the pancake mix into the pan.

"How in the hell?" Alfred walked all the way towards Ivan, peering over his shoulder. "Well I'll be damned. Pardon my language, but those smell too damn good to be eaten."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Alfred laughed, shaking his head as he went to the refigerator to grab some apple juice. It was Matthew's favourite, along with pancakes and a good dose of maple syrup. "You're doing too good of a job tryin' to get me killed, boy."

Ivan tilted his head, flipping three pancakes successfully as he did.

"'Cause dollface is gonna give me an earful 'bout letting you man the kitchen," Alfred continued, soon returning to Ivan's side. "You done with those pancakes?"

"Yes -"

"Now scoot yer ass to the nearest available seat, thank you very much," he commanded, jerking his thumb over his shoulder while bumping into Ivan. The boy stifled a grin. So unbecoming of him, truly.

But nevermind. He obediently went to sit in one of the seats of the breakfast corner. "You make breakfast, Mr. Jones?"

"Yep. Fay's never a morning person. How does eggs and bacon sound?"

"Okay, Mr. Jones."

"Now for the last time, it's Alfred."

"Okay, Mr. Jones."

Alfred rolled his eyes as Ivan grinned behind his mug. "Now that's more like a fifteen-year-old. All smart ass -"

"Daddy?"

The both of them turned to the doorway, with Alfred's eyebrows disappearing into his fringe. "Baby boy, what you doin' up so early?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Matthew blushed. "No. Don't tell me. Pancakes?" The boy nodded, and Alfred ran a hand through his hair, snorting in amusement. "Guilty as charged, squirt. You go say good mornin' to Ivan and sit with him. He's the one who made your favourite today."

"_Really_? T-Thank you! And good morning, Ivan," he added before he forgot, pulling himself up into one of the seats. Ivan placed two large pancakes on a plate and poured a large helping of maple syrup, before passing it to Matthew - all because Alfred would _like _it. And he did, because when he was done placing Ivan's meal and his own, he frowned - obviously trying to keep the smile away from his face.

"All right, now that's just too sweet. You tryin' to charm your way into the family?"

Ivan said nothing about that; just picked up his eating utensils to start on his meal.

That _Alfred _made for him.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," he said softly, eyes crinkling. And there was none of that _Mrs. Jones _to ruin this perfect morning -

"Good morning," a voice said groggily from the doorway.

- but of course life wasn't all that perfect, Ivan conceeded, disguising his frown by bringing up the meat to his mouth - and tightening his grip around the knife when Alfred crossed the room to give his wife a kiss. Ah, it wouldn't be too good to be so _hasty._

Her time will come.

"Good morning yourself, muffin. Ivan made pancakes -"

"You let him make pancakes?" Morgan interrupted, visibly frowning.

Ivan wanted to badly roll his eyes at her need to treat him as if he couldn't take care of himself. _Really._ "It's all right, _Mrs. Jones_. I woke up early and I wanted to do something nice, since you adopted me and all..."

"But Ivan, you don't have to! You don't owe us a thing," she fussed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It wouldn't do for you to make breakfast for us."

"Is it a crime?" Ivan asked airily, looking away from her and smiling at Matthew when he tried to pour apple juice into his plastic cup - without success. He promptly helped the boy - "_T-Thank you, Ivan!_" - as the woman stood, taken aback.

"O-Of course not. But you really didn't have to..." she trailed off uncertainly, while Alfred just shook his head.

"Just let it go, sweetheart. Wouldn't do to spoil the mornin', right? Don'tcha have a meetin' with that stuck up brother of yours today?

Morgan sighed, then smiled; taking her seat opposite Ivan and beside Matthew. "Arthur is _not _stuck up, Alfred," she said loyally, helping herself to the pancakes and the eggs. "Why are you up early, poppet - no. Wait." She shook her head, laughing. (_i want to tear her voice right out_) "Pancakes. Have you thanked Ivan yet?"

Matthew nodded enthusiastically. "And they're _really really _good, too."

Alfred sat on the seat opposite Matthew - in between Ivan and Morgan. The sound of _clinks _rang through the air as metal hit ceramic; the whole family already starting to enjoy the meal. "Damn, these are _good_," Alfred crowed, ruffling Ivan's hair. "Now I wouldn't mind you making pancakes once in a while."

"Alfred!" Morgan sounded appalled.

Ivan's boyish cheeks pinked as he completely ignored the lady. "Thank you, Mr. Jones. And I wouldn't mind making them for you - and Matthew," he said meaningfully, gazing at the child. The family was ignorant of him omitting Mrs. Jones out of the picure - who, at the moment, simply floundered in her seat as she thought up of something to say.

"Oh - well. I suppose it's no harm... Thank you, Ivan. These really _are _delicious."

Ivan smiled prettily, _especially _towards _Mrs. Jones. _"You're welcome."

_i __**waaaaant to tear he r voi ce r i g h t out**_

She smiled back as his monster sang his only lullaby.

--

--

"Ivan? What'ser _favourite_ colour?" Matthew asked shyly, after breakfast, sprawled on the rug with a piece of drawing block and crayons all over the floor around him. Ivan looked away from the television and peered at the piece of art the little boy was working on. There was an image of a stickman, a stickwoman, and two boys on each side of them.

_How cute. _"Is that your homework, Matvey?"

"Yep. Why'rou calling me _Maht-vyay_?" he asked curiously, looking up. Ivan sat down beside him, touching the sticks of crayons idly as he responded.

"Because that is how I call a person named _Matthew, _in my native language. You don't like it?"

Matthew scrambled for something to say, cheeks flushing. "I-I think it's very nice!" he squeaked, because he didn't want Ivan to _dislike _him or anything - Ivan chuckled.

"Thank you very much. Is that me?" he asked, even if he knew the answer already, towards one of the stickboys who had an uncoloured shirt.

"Uh-huh. I'mma make your shirt your _favourite _colour."

Alfred's shirt was bright sky blue, while Mrs. Jones was a nice forest green. Matthew himself was in red.

"Ah. Then would you kindly colour me red like you?"

"Red's my favourite colour too!" Matthew exclaimed enthusiastically, then set on to work on his new big brother's shirt. Ivan simply smiled, ears picking up on the other conversation not too far away from them.

"I'll be gone for a few hours -"

"I know, babycakes, you just have a great time with Arthur and don't worry your pretty lil' head 'bout me and the kids."

"... If you're absolutely sure. But if _anything _comes up, give me a call."

"I _know_. Now get moving, you're gonna be late," Alfred murmured affectionately. Ivan's eyes minimally narrowed.

"Is it okay?"

He looked down at Matthew, where the child was hesitantly holding up his drawing to the older boy's face. Such a nice image of the ideal family - Ivan and Matthew flanking both Morgan and _Alfred_, big smiles on their circle faces as they peered up the paper to the observer.

"Just fix your mother for a bit." Ivan smiled brilliantly. "Otherwise I absolutely love it."

Matthew deflated for a bit at the first comment, before his smile returned full force. "T-Thank you, Ivan! Daddy, look at what I drew!"

"Let's see what you got there - oh dear lord, my lil' devil's gonna become an _artist!_" Alfred laughed as he ruffled the boy's hair and then turning to Ivan. "You up for a little shopping? Fay's all ballistic 'bout the bag you brought in yesterday and this time I agree with her - you've too little clothes on you, and I say it's time for a bit of a wardrobe restock."

Ivan blinked. "I suppose there's no way out of this?" he asked politely, and Alfred smirked.

"Damn straight. Just lemme go change. You mind helpin' out baby boy with his clothes? He's still not tall enough to reach his coat and he's always forgetting his socks. They're on the rack near the front door and Mattie can show you where he keeps his socks."

"I don't mind," Ivan said, incredibly pleased.

"I'm still growing," Matthew mumbled petulantly as all grumbling five-year-olds seem to do, and Alfred said nothing, just gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of Ivan's hair as he passed the both of them.

"Yes, you might be my height when you're my age, Matvey."

"_Really? _But that's so long, we're ten years'part," Matthew said, nevertheless excited, parting his hands. "You gonna stay forever and ev'r right?" He looked up to Ivan with complete adoration. "You're a really nice broth'r."

"Of course, little brother." They passed one of those family portraits Ivan has taken a liking to admire these days, and his hands ghosted over the frame, unseen by Matthew. So _close. _But it wouldn't doto be so hasty. Ivan knows how to be very patient. "Of course I'll stay."

--

--

He's been smiling at every piece of shit to come up to Alfred, say hello, and politely inquire about 'the nice-looking boy' beside him. Already he can hear the lullaby playing in his mind in a loop, and the more permanent it was as more people came. The latest simply made the tune ring loudly in his ear.

_don't make a fuss, sweetheart o' mine_

"Yeah, his name is Ivan."

_now would you kindly pass the knife_

"How old is he?"

Before Alfred could respond, the salesgirl came back to ring up the purchases, and Alfred looked away from the woman. It was only natural when Ivan felt obligated to respond for the occupied man, especially when the woman repeated her question a bit more forcefully. _oh baby boy just hush and sleep._ "I'm fifteen," he answered softly, but loud enough for the woman to hear him.

_your mama's here so don't you weep_

The woman threw him a glance before looking back at Alfred. "Is attending school?" she insisted, completely ignoring him.

Ivan sighed, touching her arm gently. "Yes. I am. And you can stop talking as if I'm not in the same room, ma'am," Ivan replied pleasantly, startling the woman to look at Ivan. He smiled, leaning in close enough to whisper. "Now would you kindly get out of my sight?" he murmured - she wrenched her arm away, hands shaking. "Oh, dear."

_she took out trash not long ago, you're still all hers, she'll tell you so_

She was one of those who knew right off the bat that he wasn't quite right when she looked into his eyes. Now Ivan wasn't all that worried. After all, who would believe the _polite, _nicely mannered boy was such a _monster?_

_you're mama's little pride and joy_

"You're -" she started furiously, and he relented with a cruel, cruel smile. Immediately her courage died, replaced with cold hard fear. "I-I need to go," she stuttered, backing away and bumping into the clothes rack, almost bringing it down. Ivan tilted his head, lips shaped into a pretty curve.

_you're mama's little baby boy_

"Of course, ma'am," he said cheerfully, watching her go before waiting patiently for Alfred to be done. The man had his eyebrows furrowed, hands in a movement that seemed quite off with Ivan but he couldn't tell why.

"- sorry 'bout that, Lisa, I need to pay for the clothes - he's fifteen," Alfred announced, spinning on his heels with full shopping bags in each, to find the woman truly well and gone. "Where'd she go?"

"She just walked away," Ivan answered, his lullaby no more than a faint whisper in his head now.

--

--

_how long can you hold, mama?_

_**A LITTLE WHILE.**_

_okay. _Ivan turned to lie on his back, hands running over the bedsheets, material softer than he's ever felt before. He was just done packing everything into his brand-new closet in his brand-new room for a brand-new life. He didn't like starting over very much, to be honest. There was simply too much to do._ i'll get started very soon. it'll take a little while._

_**GOOD LITTLE IVAN. **_ the voice murmured affectionately, and Ivan simply stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing but golden starlight and a black hole behind the brightest of skies. It intrigued him so much, he couldn't help but ask _mama._ His voice had the same hope often crushed in broken childhood dreams.

_is he mine? _he asked, lost, confused. Certain.

_**SILLY LITTLE IVAN. **_the voice cackled, amused that he would say such a thing. He could feel the caress of the voice on his hair - like a mother whispering sweet dreams to her child at night before the Sandman comes. _**OF COURSE.**_

_should she kindly stay away, mama?_

The voice rumbled in approval, and Ivan seemed appeased. "Her time will come," he murmured with false cheer, already daydreaming. "Oh, her _time will come._"

There was a knock on the door.

"Ivan?" There was a pause, and a shuffle as Mrs. Jones's voice drifted through the wood of the door. "... May I come in?" she asked - almost hesitantly, it seemed, and Ivan sat up on the bed, adjusting his collar.

"Of course," he answered demurely, and the door opened to admit his favorite playmate to be. The woman was still in her clothes from before, when she left the house to visit her brother. He supposed she came straight upstairs to see him right after she got back. "Is anything the matter, Mrs. Jones?"

"Well. I'm not one to assume too much about people, but you're staying with us for quite some time, Ivan." She didn't say forever. Matthew would be so heartbroken. "So... I just wanted to make sure that the both of us are all right with each other."

Ivan feigned confusion. He's had quite a lot of practice. "What ever do you mean by that?"

"I'm - I'm not implying anything, and maybe I'm just being a bit too touchy but..."

He was getting bored.

"... I have a feeling that you don't like me much."

Ivan blinked, lips trembling as he struggled not to laugh. Morgan took it as a bad sign.

"My god - I didn't upset you, did I?" she asked, eyes filled with concern for the foster child she (not quite) wanted.

"Maybe a little bit," Ivan lied, dropping his gaze onto somewhere else. "I don't _dislike _you, Mrs. Jones. I'm just honest... I didn't realise it'll make you feel bad about it. But what ever gave you the feeling that I didn't like you?" Ivan asked, eyes wide and pleading. "P-Please don't send me back. I like it here so much -"

"_**No!**_" she cut in forcefully, clearly regretting bringing up the subject in the first place - exactly what Ivan wanted. "I didn't mean it like that! I wouldn't send you back just because you didn't like me - especially on the first day, Ivan. I... I must've been assuming things..." she trailed off uncertainly, going quiet. "Maybe I've been having a bad week - I'm sorry, Ivan." She shook her head. "This must be quite uncomfortable for you."

"It is," Ivan replied carelessly, placing particular attention to the way he said it - uncertain, afraid. It made Mrs. Jones berate herself mentally; _subjecting the poor boy to such a thing, you stupid, stupid girl!_ "But Mrs. Jones, it wouldn't be as much fun without you. The family wouldn't be one if you're not around," he replied, and this time, he was completely honest.

(_oh, i can't __**wait **__to __**break **__it.)_

"Oh. Well." Morgan was obviously floundering, trying to find words. "I... I really am sorry. But you shouldn't assume that you'll be sent back like that." She tried to smile. "Really. You're a very nice boy, Ivan. I can't imagine why..."

Ivan wanted to _badly _to tear her voice out. "But I can't - I can't help it. All of them, they all never -" Ivan cut himself off, ducking his head. From the sound of silence, he knew very well the woman was surprised at this 'revelation' about her new son. She was intrigued - curious.

He wanted to laugh so _badly._

"Well, I..." Morgan paused, then sighed. "I won't keep you up much longer. You've got school tomorrow," she said affectionately, the edge of her lips quirked up into a sort of half-smile. She brought up her hand to ruffle his hair but stopped short, hesitating - _oh, very __**good**_ - simply settling on squeezing his shoulder. Ivan held himself still. "Good night, Ivan."

She stood up and was halfway to the door before Ivan responded.

"Good night, Mrs. Jones."

_sweet dreams._

--

--

--

--

a/n: you'll get to see the full lullaby later. (but of course.) it doesn't make sense to you now - or does it? if you're confused about something, well, that's what future chapters are for.

read, review, thank you!


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